


cinnamon buns

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: fictober 2020 [14]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baking, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: The kitchen smells like cinnamon and warm sugar, there’s sweat on my brow from standing over the stovetop and there’s probably flour in my hair. Baz is always telling me I’ve got flour in my hair when I bake, and it’s probably because I’ve just got a habit of brushing my hair out of the way. He’s also told me countless times to tie my hair back or use one of his headbands.I do not.And so it’s no surprise when Baz strolls into the kitchen and musses my curls, muttering under his breath, “You’ve got flour in your hair again, Snow.”
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: fictober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949911
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	cinnamon buns

**Author's Note:**

> day 14: cinnamon buns
> 
> my favorite trope within the fandom is that simon takes up baking, it's canon in my heart honestly. now have some Soft Baking Moments with Simon (ft. A Needy Baz)
> 
> also credit for their conversation on cakes & cupcakes rightfully goes to [annabellelux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux/pseuds/annabellelux) who is much funnier than me so i stole her words (she's my wife though, so what's hers is mine, right? ily bb)

**SIMON**

The kitchen smells like cinnamon and warm sugar, there’s sweat on my brow from standing over the stovetop and there’s probably flour in my hair. Baz is always telling me I’ve got flour in my hair when I bake, and it’s probably because I’ve just got a habit of brushing my hair out of the way. He’s also told me countless times to tie my hair back or use one of his headbands.

I do not.

And so it’s no surprise when Baz strolls into the kitchen and musses my curls, muttering under his breath, “You’ve got flour in your hair again, Snow.”

I shrug it off and keep kneading the dough I’ve been working on, expecting Baz to sigh and continue on with his day or something. That’s usually how it goes, he’ll walk in and gripe about something small because it’s how he says he loves me, then he’ll wander off again until whatever I’m baking is ready to be eaten.

That’s not how it goes today, though.

This time he keeps playing with my hair, leaning his hip against the counter as he does so. I pause my kneading, turning my gaze to him. If I were Baz I would be lifting one finely sculpted eyebrow right now. But I’m Simon, so instead I raise both in question because I’ve not got that kind of control over my face.

“What’re you making today, love?” He asks. Even after being with him for so many years, I still feel my cheeks flush from the word ‘ _love_ ’.

“I’ve got some cupcakes in the oven for Penny’s brother, and Penny asked for some scones. I thought I'd make something for us, too. A cake, maybe?” He drops his hand, letting his fingers skate over the side of my face before it lands on my waist.

Baz hums, frowning. "Not the biggest fan of cake, if I'm honest." 

I shake my head. "I know this and I will never understand you." Baz has never really liked cake, even when it came to our wedding he wouldn't agree to a cake. We finally settled on cupcakes. 

_"Cupcakes are better anyway, yeah?" I had asked, digging through an old cookbook that one of Baz's relatives gifted us._

_"Cupcakes are only better because they're over faster." I dropped the book, turning to him with my best approximation at his one-brow-up-judging-look. (I'm not good at it.)_

_"Those are grounds for divorce, Basilton."_

_"We're not even married yet, Simon."_

_He laughed as he stepped in, placed a kiss on my cheek. I gave in, melted into his arms as they came around me._

_"Baz, when people show you who they are, you should believe them," I whispered into his neck. He hummed again, prompting me to continue. I smiled as I did._ _"You've shown yourself to be an incorrect bitch."_

_We both fell into each other laughing after that, and kissing, and eventually one of us whisked the other off to bed and we never spoke of a wedding cake again._

"How about cinnamon buns, then?" I offer, and I know he's going to agree before he does. Baz has a sweet tooth, which is why I'm surprised by his awful opinion on cake and cupcakes. But he'll always accept a cinnamon roll. 

“That sounds delectable.” His voice is soft, breathy, and he’s moving behind me, hooking his chin over my shoulder and pressing his front flush to my back. “Mordelia was asking about your cake pops when she called last night.”

“Oh, I’ll make her a few if we’ve any extra cakes.”

Baz’s arms snake around my waist, tucking themselves inside the top of the apron I’ve thrown on, palms pressed against my chest. I feel his cheek against my neck, his breath is warm over my cheek when he speaks.

“I love you,” he says, and it sounds almost like a realisation on his part. Or a… _re_ -realisation, because it’s certainly not the first time he’s said it. It makes me smile, though, and then he’s pressing a kiss into my jaw. “Not just because you bake sweets for me and my siblings, but that certainly helps.”

“Are you planning to grope me the whole time I’m making these?” I ask, teasing. One of Baz’s hands squeezes my breast in response, the other falling down and rubbing my stomach.

“Are you complaining, Snow?” His voice is light, teasing right back, and I’m still smiling. I love that we have this, that we can do this.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He laughs, a sweet tinkling of a sound in my ear, and brings both hands to my waist. Squeezing, hugging me to him.

Then he’s blowing a raspberry into my neck, making me break into some screech of a laugh. I nearly drop the dough I’m working with.

“Behave yourself,” I scold, still laughing. “Or else I’m kicking you out of my kitchen.”

Baz concedes, apologising with another kiss to my jaw, my cheek. I turn my head and let him catch my lips.

The cinnamon buns take far longer than they should to make, and the cupcakes nearly burn.

I still wouldn’t complain, though.

I love that we have _this_. That we got each other.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me ur baked goods unpopular opinion, i wanna know how y'all show yourselves to be incorrect 
> 
> (mine is that i hate cake, i just gave baz mine - also i think those puffy sugar cookies that you find at the store around the holidays?? they're the best.) 
> 
> find me on tumblr: [@pipsqueakparker](https://pipsqueakparker.tumblr.com)


End file.
